Werner Reitboeck - Kip

One day I arrived home with 22 ewe lambs. As I lowered the ramp of the trailer they jumped out with great joy and raced into the pasture, where, after a few minutes of exploration, they settled down. They ate lustily of the delicate spring growth of grasses and legumes.

A few days later I was horrified to see one of the little lambs limping. I walked up to it carefully, talking soothingly. Any time I came within a certain distance the lamb just walked quietly away. I decided to try a new method: I would approach the lamb at a crooked angle, like a plane flying in crosswinds, never looking directly at the lamb, gently humming some idiotic tune. Then, at the last minute, I tried to grab it unawares, jumping for it like some soccer super-goalie. Alas the lamb and its friends still managed to evade me easily. This however enabled me to check out their droppings from extremely close range.

I thought I would be able to corner the limping lamb in the barn. So I decided to bring all the lambs into the barn. There I would be able to separate the lame animal and check its feet. I was convinced that it suffered from footrot. Any book I had read seemed to attribute any lameness to that problem. I was further convinced that within a day or two,  if not treated properly, my whole flock would be suffering from this infection. So out came a bucket of feed and I enticed them by shaking the bucket ... they gave me a look or two but that was about it.  Then I tried to talk to them by calling baaaaa, baaaa or maaaa, maaaaa changing my pitch from an enticing, deep sexy ram call to an “'I’m in trouble" high lamb-call with everything in between. That resulted in a few more looks or rather stares, some of which seemed to be full of concern and worry but no mad rush to the barn. (However since that day it seems that my neighbors look at me quite oddly at times and they go out of their way to explain the simplest things in kind of baby language). If anything the lambs seemed to be etching gently away from me. Then I remembered that in some authoritative book I read it said that sheep have Latin education and would come rushing if called with the magical word "ovine." "Ovine, ... oviiiiiiine, oviiiiiine." My throat started hurting and I was near despair. All the lambs were happily munching on grass and trefoil. It seemed to me that by now they had decided to ignore that maniac by the barn gate. Back I went to the house for reinforcements. Kate, my wife, quite willingly put on her rubber boots, our two months old son Anthony went into a sling around her front and out we went. Once more we tried to entice our lambs into the barn. As this did not succeed we then tried to herd them in. We kept racing after them, dashing in here or there; we tried to sneak up on them to herd them quietly and kind of push them towards the barn alas in the last moment they always, with a few hops, got out of reach. Eventually Anthony woke up and let us know of his displeasure ... that at least seemed to get the lambs' attentions. I suggested to Kate she might want to drive the sheep now with the help of Anthony. The look I received for that idea told me I should plan a different offensive. Eventually, with the help of neighbors, we did get the lambs into the barn. It only took six of us to herd 22 lambs.

 I caught the lame lamb but I could find nothing that in any way looked like the descriptions of footrot in my book on sheep health. As I sat in the house afterwards, still huffing and puffing I realized that there must be a simpler way to handle sheep.  I had read about herding dogs and decided to look into the matter more closely. I remembered that in one sheep magazine I had seen an advertisement for a book to train herding dogs. I rummaged through stacks of papers in my"office" until at last I found that publication. There were four books advertised: the cheapest probably would be not very good, on the other hand the dearest was close to$ 50.00 ... so I ordered one in the middle. Next day, as luck would have it, I came across a notice advertising border collies for sale. After discussing it with Kate I phoned the number advertised and arranged to look at the pups that very afternoon.

I was shown into a barn and there in a horsestall were seven black and white bundles of energy.

There are many ways to choose a pup. In the end it comes down to personal preference. After a cursory glance at me the pups went back to their preoccupation in trying to catch some of the hens that were also housed in the barn, the only one that I could catch was a little tri-coloured male. He had decided that grabbing my shoelaces was as much fun as trying to catch one of these elusive hens.

Over the next few months Kip followed me around wherever I went, he quickly and without effort seemed to learn his "down," and "come." When he was about seven months old I bought a few more ewes. To prevent any spread of possible disease I kept them apart from the rest of the flock, for a month or so they were in a separate pasture.

After they had settled in for a few days I brought them a little grain that I placed into a tub in the middle of the pasture. Then I fetched Kip. I laid him down about thirty yards from the ewes who did not even notice us thanks to the grain in front of them. I started the first training session with Kip. Day after day we went back with those ewes and worked them. I diligently read up on how to train but basically Kip's instinct needed just a touch of correction here and there. He had to learn what I wanted of him, he had to learn my commands. He quickly mastered the fetch which meant that from then on he would help me with the main flock. I now could bring the flock into the barn within minutes. I stood by the barn door and Kip fetched the sheep and their lambs to me. I had to stand aside to let then pass by me into the barn.

Pretty soon Kip helped me at all phases of my work with the sheep. He had an uncanny sense that made him realize what I wanted of him. All he really knew was to fetch the sheep but that was enough to make it possible for me to look after my livestock efficiently. Whenever I was working outside he would be loose to follow me around, give me advice on any number of things from carpentry to baling hay. That August somebody told me that not too far from our farm there was a sheepdog trial. So our whole family. Kip included, jammed into the car and went to have a look. There were a few dogs in the Novice class and looking at it I thought that Kip could do this too. So we asked if we could enter the following day and so that Sunday morning I proudly went to the post with Kip. But just before the trial a red van drove up and a murmur went through the crowd: Amanda had arrived.

As I stood by the post and released  Kip he rushed up towards the sheep but, ignoring them, he first went up to the dog that was lying not too far from them. That dog ignored him so Kip first tried to find out if that dog had any homosexual tendencies, when he still was ignored – he lifted his leg. This at least got a reaction, not so much from the dog but from his handler who started rushing at Kip, brandishing her crook, blond hair flying – an angry Viking warrior princess if I ever saw one. To this day I am easily intimidated by Amanda.

 Kip on the other hand decided that Bart, which was the setout dog, was not worth his attention and started to work the sheep. We did finish the course, I think there were only 6 or 7 dogs in that class and we even got a yellow ribbon. Both of us were now efficiently hooked!